Single
by Black-Rose-117
Summary: Everyone starts acting very strange. John doesn't want him around, Mycroft and Lestrade are getting married, and Sherlock finds himself with a very unwanted boyfriend he's been dating for two years now and doesn't have any memory of it. Can he figure out what happened before all this becomes perminate?
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock woke up groggily one morning, for once, it seemed just too early to be eight. The sun seemed to bright as he stood and opened his curtains, hissing a little as it hit his eyes. He shuffled his feet to the kitchen, seeing John, already up for once, before him.

"Morning." Sherlock yawned.

"You greeting me? That's a change." Was how John answered, not even bothering to lower the paper.

"What are you talking about now?" Sherlock asked, his brain just not waking up. What was wrong with him?

"Never mind." John still didn't lower the paper.

"You alright there?" Sherlock asked, something was off with John.

"Perfect." John answered over his paper.

Sherlock brushed off the confusion and walked over to John, placing his hand on John's shoulder, bending down, and kissing John lightly on the lips. John moaned loudly in protest as he pushed Sherlock away, falling out of his seat and landing hard on the floor, hitting his head on the seat next to him. He sat there, holding the back of his head, eyes and teeth clenched shut in pain; Sherlock watched, shocked. John has never done that before...

"John... Are-"

"What in the bloody hell was that for?" John boomed, sounding freaked.

"What? I just..."

"You kissed me! What the hell? You think you can just waltz in here one day and decide to kiss me? I'm not -gay-, Sherlock Holmes! I -have- a girlfriend! And -you-... I don't even know what side of the fence you're on!" John was screaming now. His face was red with anger.

"But John... You're my boyfriend... Remember?" Sherlock was stunned. John had a girlfriend?

"Boyfriend?" John basically spat out the word as though it were poison. "Tell me why I would ever be in a relationship with -you- Sherlock!"

John stood and strode over to the freezer, grabbing an ice pack from it and pressing it to the back of his head. Sherlock stood, frozen, next to the chair. Why was John treating him like this? He had no idea.

"John..."

"No, Sherlock. Just don't talk to me, okay?" John stormed off to his room.

-

Sherlock made his way to the door to answer it as John came out of his room and laid down on the couch. Sherlock wanted to join him so bad. He opened the door and was was tightly greeted with a hug by Lestrade.

This day was getting weirder and weirder.

"Hello baby brother." Mycroft smiled, walking in after Lestrade and taking Sherlock's hand, shaking it firmly. "I hope you don't mind us poping by like this. We were in the neighborhood and..."

"You guys were in the neighborhood? Bloody hell I don't remember doing anything." Sherlock scolded as he watched Mycroft and Lestrade walk over and stand (uncomfortably) close to each other.

"You did nothing, dear brother." Mycroft beamed. "We just had great news and wanted you two to be the first to hear it."

"Oh?" John asked, raising an interest.

"Yes, very exciting indeed, tell them Lestrade."

"Well, you see guys... We decided to get married!" Lestrade beamed, kissing Mycroft on the neck.

Sherlock's jaw dropped as John jumped from the couch and ran over to congraduate the two of them.

"How long has it been you two?" John asked, smiling as he stuck his hands in his pockets.

"Two and a half years next week." Mycroft smiled.

"Wow, amazing!"

"It really has been."

"Oh, and baby brother, I want you to be the best man. There's no one I'd rather have next to me." Mycroft said, walking over and placing a firm hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "Would you?"

Sherlock was speechless. When did these two start dating? What was going on here?

"I... Uh... I need to get some air..." Sherlock said, and he ran out of the flat, grabbing his coat and scarf on the way out.


	2. Chapter 2

Hello there~  
-JM

Sherlock stared at the screen, he was in no mood to deal with Moriarty right now.

You there?  
-JM

What do you want?  
-SH

Ohhh~ Someone's in a bit of a mood~  
-JM

Nothing a little dinner can't fix. Join me~?  
-JM

Why? So you can kill me? No thanks.  
-SH

Darling. Kill you? No.  
-JM

Meet me at the cafe, you know the one~ Your favorite~  
~JM

Sherlock pocketed the phone and flagged down a taxi. What was Moriarty planning? Sherlock sighed the directions to the driver and sat back in his seat.

-

Sherlock sat at a table, alone, waiting for Moriarty to come show his ugly face. He spots him walking in, but makes no effort in flagging him down, Sherlock just watched, hands folded over each others, chin resting on top.

"Afternoon." Moriarty smiled at Sherlock, sitting across from him after spotting him and making his way over.

"Moriarty." Sherlock answered, bored hatred burning into his words.

"Well now, cheer up dear." Moriarty frowned. "We're here, you should be happy."

"Oh, yes. I apologize for not being over joyed that I'm having dinner with my sworn enemy. I'll try to be more cheerful." Sherlock sarcastically muttered, avoiding eye contact with Moriarty and, instead, watched a waiter who kept glancing up at them. "And don't tell me, if I make a wrong move or threaten you in any way, that waiter over there, who is secretly one of your handymen in disguise, will not hesitate to kill me, am I correct?"

Moriarty looked positively confused. "What are you talking about? Why would I have handymen here? Are you feeling alright?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak when a waiter came over and placed plates in front of them, along with two cups of coffee.

"Hope you don't mind, I ordered for us ahead of time." Moriarty explained. "I know how you hate waiting. Anywho, what were you saying?"

"What, did you have it poisoned or something?" Sherlock asked, indicating the steak that sat in front of him.

"What is wrong with you today, babe?" Moriarty asked, sounding annoyed.

"B-babe?" Sherlock stuttered. ''W-why did you call me b-babe?"

"Oh, come on~ Sherlock, if you can't tell your -boyfriend- what's wro-"

"Boyfriend?" Sherlock stood, slamming his hands on the table, making his coffee spill. "-Boyfriend-?"

"Two years next week, come on babe." Moriarty stood and made his way around the table to Sherlock. "That adorable brain of your is really going, huh?" Moriarty kissed Sherlock's cheek. Sherlock was too in shock to move from Moriarty's grip. "What do you say, after dinner we make our way back to my place? Think John would mind you staying the night?"

"He... He wouldn't... But-"

"Great!"

He pushed in Sherlock's chair so he would sit, then returned to his spot, digging into his steak. Sherlock didn't touch his, he didn't want to eat. Instead, he sipped his coffee and watched Moriarty eat, trying to take in all the information.

John hated him now.

Lestrade is marrying his brother.

His brother wanted him as best man.

Now he's dating Moriarty...

...And they were going back to his place tonight.

What's going on?


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock laid across the bed, legs hanging over the edge, sweat covering his naked body, his lungs desperately attempting to pull oxygen in, and his arms unable to move after Moriarty had pinned them to the bed during their excruciating intercourse. Moriarty was perched on the edge, breathing heavily as well, covered in his own cum. -God...- Sherlock thought as he fought for air. -...God... I never want Moriarty inside of me again... He is no John.-

Suddenly, Moriarty began to chuckle, softly at first, building up to a full out evil-hearty laugh.

"That was great!" He basically shouted with excitement. "Never before! Never! Sherlock Holmes, my dear, you really are a genius!" Moriarty crawled on top of Sherlock, placing a long, slow, yet rough kiss on his lips. "I can't see why John has let you go! So innocent yet such a beast! God, I need more! You really are my love, dear Sherlock Holmes!" Moriarty twisted his fingers in the mat of hair on Sherlock head and kissed him roughly again.

Sherlock moaned in protest but didn't struggle. He kissed Moriarty back, yes, but he didn't enjoy it. John had let -him- go. The man who had claimed many times to be in love with him, not being able to live without him, has let him go. Sherlock felt anger, pain, he felt hatred towards John, and he let it all out on Moriarty's lips. Two years now, according to Moriarty, of this, this life without John. This life together with Moriarty. This pain and anger and depression!

Moriarty made to go for Sherlock's neck, but Sherlock was quicker then that, he bit down on Moriarty's neck and sucked on it till he knew there would be a mark.

Why would John do this to him? Didn't he know how much Sherlock needed him in his life? Was John lying all this time to him? Was everything he said a lie? Every 'I love you' that he whispered in his ear at night, every kiss, every hand motion he made on Sherlock's body, every bruise, every little mark; was it all lies?

Sherlock let go of Moriarty, who sat up slightly to get a better look at Sherlock.

"Sherlock," Moriarty started, his eyes coated in lust. Dangerous, thick lust. "I love you."

Sherlock laid on the bed, gasping for air. The hatred inside of him for Moriarty grew with those words, how could Moriarty say something like that? He has tried to kill him a number of times. Yet, here they were, having full out passionate sex with each other on Moriarty's bed, in Moriarty's house. With Moriarty.

"I love you, too." The words left Sherlock's lips before he could bite them back. "I love you, too."


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock, help!  
-JW

Sherlock's anger was growing, John texting him didn't help.

"Who is it?" Moriarty asked, calmly.

Moriarty lay next to Sherlock, still naked, under the sheets in his bed. Moriarty's eyes were closed and he had his arms crossed under his head on the pillow. He looked so relaxed.

"John." Sherlock muttered, closing the message and placing the phone on the table next to the bed.

He glanced up at the neon clock on the other side of the room. It flashed to midnight and Sherlock sighed, closing his eyes. He really didn't care that John needed help, he was too angry to care.

Sherlock, please!  
-JW

I'm sorry! Please help!  
-JW

What is it?  
-SH

Please come to the flat! Where are you?  
-JW

Moriarty's.  
-SH

Eww...  
-JW

Please come quickly!  
-JW

On my way...  
-SH

Sherlock regretfully slipped out of the covers, shivered as the cold air hit his exposed crotch. Moriarty opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock.

"Where are you going, hun?" Moriarty yawned.

"John needs help apparently." Sherlock replied as he started to pick up his clothes and put them on.

"Awwwww." Moriarty moaned, crawling over to Sherlock. "Don't go!" Moriarty wrapped his arms around Sherlock's middle and pulled him to sit on the bed, shirtless with his pants on.

"I have to... John needs me..." Sherlock tried to pry Moriarty's grip off him.

"I need you more~" Moriarty moaned in a sing-song voice. "Sherlock, you were my first, you can't leave now!"

Sherlock tried not to gag. He turned his head away from Moriarty, closing his eyes and swallowing hard before saying, "I think he's in danger. Please, release me..."

For a moment, Moriarty's grip staid firm, then slowly released Sherlock, who stood and continued to dress.

"Text me while you're out, will you?" Moriarty sounded upset.

This was so out of character for him. Yet, right now, who was really -in- character? Nothing is right. Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed and started to slip on his shoes. Moriartys arms snaked around him as Moriarty planted a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips. -Is this going to become a regular thing?- Sherlock thought as Moriarty pulled back and allowed Sherlock to leave.

-

He walked up to 221B and rushed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

"John?" Sherlock called, reaching their flat. "John?"

A muffled call came from the direction of the bedrooms. Quickly, Sherlock sprinted towards the sound.

"John?" He called again.

The call came from Sherlock's bedroom. He burst into the room to find John bound tightly to the bed post, gaged on a towel that was rolled up and tied around his head. John looked up at Sherlock, his eyes filled with fear. Sherlock rushed to John and un-gaged him.

"Are you alright? How have you been texting me?" He looked at the ropes that bound John.

John pulled his phone out from under him, his wrist just barely able to move.

"I'm fine." He was breathing heavily. "Can you untie me please, Sherlock?"

"What happened?" Sherlock asked as he started working at the knot.

"I don't even know. I was knocked out before I could tell what was going on. I woke up here and... Oh God..." The ropes fell and John glanced around worriedly, searching.

"What?"

"Molly!"

"Molly? Like, hospital Molly?"

"Yes, Molly!"

"What about her? And, God John, you're bleeding!"

John touched the cut on the back of his head and waved it away impatiently. "Where is she?"

"What does she have to do with anything? Why was she here?"

"Sherlock, she's my -girlfriend-! What do you think she was doing here?"

"How long have you two been...?" Sherlock was in shock.

"Two years next week. We started the same day you and Moriarty started." John let so much hatred into his voice when he hissed Moriarty's name.

They stood and John glanced around again. Sherlock took hold of John's shoulder's firmly and John focused his attention back on Sherlock.

"Wha- Mmmmm!" Sherlock pressed his lips forcefully against John's.

Slowly, unsurely, John's lips formed into his. Two strong hands rests on Sherlock's sides as John tilted his head slightly for a deeper kiss. Sherlock opened his mouth and closed it around John's a couple of times before he let his tongue wander it's way into John's mouth. God, he missed this!

John broke the connection gently, backing his head away slightly, his hands staying on Sherlock's sides. John, teeth clenched and showing through his open lips, looked at Sherlock in the eyes. Sherlock couldn't stand that look, it was too innocent and cute. He placed a hand on the back of John's head and gently pulled him into another long, deep, gentle, kiss. He and John were so slow and gentle, it was as though they hadn't kissed in two years.

No, Moriarty definitely was not anything close to his John Watson, ex-soldier, part time doctor, and forever the love of his life.


	5. Chapter 5

What's going on? When will you be back?  
-JM

I won't, not tonight. John needs me, here.  
-SH

What's so important as that he needs you there?  
-JM

Molly is dead.  
-SH

-

John cried into Sherlock over Molly's bloody body. His face was pressed into Sherlock's chest and Sherlock's head rested on his, forced to look at, what once was, a great girl. Sherlock shed a tear or two, but he wasn't sure if it was for Molly, or the sobbing, heartbroken John. He petted John's soft sandy blond hair, and kissed the top of his head lightly. He buried the lower half of his face into John's hair, taking a deep breath. Tangerines and vanilla, as always.

Unable to resist the temptation any longer, Sherlock pushed John back a little, titled his head up slightly, and kissed his soft, salty lips. John continued to cry, the tears leaking down his face into Sherlock mouth as they kissed, but he felt John relax slightly in his arms. A hand gently perched itself on the back of Sherlock's neck, holding him into the kiss. Sherlock cupped his hand on John's cheek, holding him there, touching him as though if he didn't, John would disappear.

"Sherlock..." John whispered, breathing heavily through tears and lack of proper oxygen, their foreheads leaning against each others.

"Yes my dear?" Sherlock whispered back, keeping his hand cupped on John's cheek.

"Can we move to the couch?" John's words were barely audible through his tears.

Sherlock let a smile cross his face. "Of course."

"And will you sleep with me?"

Sherlock kissed John's lips quickly. "Of course."

-

"Why did you text me, John?" Sherlock asked, his arm wrapped over the army doctor's middle. "I thought you didn't want to speak to me..."

John sighed, his eyes closed. "Well, I was panicking, I had no idea how long I had until someone came in and found I was conscious, so I thought if I text my best friend he would come save me... And thank God he did..."

"Hummm." Sherlock hummed.

"Two years Sherlock..." John muttered.

"What?" Sherlock whispered in John's ear, honestly confused.

"Two years since we were last like this. Cuddled up in each other's arms, kissing. Why did you kiss me yesterday morning anyway? You acted like it was normal..."

"It was..." Sherlock paused for a minute, thinking. "For me, anyway... You'll just think I'm crazy, let's not ruin tonight."

"Tell me, Sherlock... Do you not trust me anymore?" John let a slight hurt tone sneak into his voice.

"I do... Your the only one I do trust... But John... I want tonight to last... Please..."

"Sherlock, tell me... Or I'll leave!"

"You wouldn't." Sherlock hissed sadly.

"Oh?" John started to make an effort to get out of Sherlock's grip, who only tightened the hold.

"Ok! I'll tell you... Just... No laughing..."

John turned towards Sherlock and kissed him. "Promise..."

"Just two days ago..." Sherlock sighed. "...You were my boyfriend. I had blond hair from an experiment going wrong. You told me you loved me no matter what, that you loved me with all your heart. It couldn't have been two years ago... I don't know what's going on..."

"I don't remember this at all, Sherlock. You never had blond hair..."

"But I did John... It just doesn't add up..."

"Let's get some sleep, we can figure it out in the morning..." John yawned, kissing Sherlock's nose.

Sherlock sighed and watched John's eyes flutter closed before he kissed the man on the lips. John smiled when Sherlock pulled away, keeping his eyes closed. Sherlock shut his as well, listening to the calming sound of John's steady breathing.

"I love you, John Watson..." Sherlock whispered, thinking maybe John wouldn't hear it.

After a few moments of silence, and Sherlock was sure John had fallen asleep, John whispered back:

"I love you too, Sherlock Holmes..."


	6. Chapter 6

"I couldn't have been your boyfriend two days ago. For one, wouldn't you still have this blond hair you told me about?" John asked, handing Sherlock a cup of tea.

Sherlock took the cup from John and sipped from it. "I don't know, John. Nothing is right at this moment. Everything is messed up. Lestrade and Mycroft are getting bloody -married-, I'm dating Moriarty, and you were dating Molly..." Sherlock stopped and looked up at John, who looked hurt. "I'm sorry..."

"No, no... It's fine... I mean... I don't know..." John rubbed his temples, closing his eyes.

Sherlock staid quiet for a moment, watching his friend. John pulled himself back together and started to speak again.

"So, tell me... how things are -supposed- to be then... In your mind..."

"For starters, you're supposed to be mine..." Sherlock glanced at John before continuing. "Moriarty is supposed to hate us, and Lestrade is supposed to come to us for help, whether he likes it or not. Molly is supposed to be alive and not dead in our flat, and she's supposed to have a painfully obvious crush on me." Sherlock sighed. "I don't know what's going on."

John polished off his teas and stood up, taking his glass to the kitchen. "I don't know, Sherlock." Came John's voice from the next room. "Are you sure all of that wasn't a... -dream-?"

"I hope it wasn't. It was so great... You fell in love with me..." Sherlock looked at John threw the kitchen door as he froze. "You fell in love with me..." Sherlock said again, in a soft, sad tone.

Sherlock watched John as his shoulders indicated a long deep sigh. John stood there for a moment, his back to Sherlock, the water running from the tap, and his cup in his hand.

"Sherlock, that was long ago..." John sighed.

"Moriarty said -you- let -me- go way-back-then. Why?"

"I had to, Sherlock."

"Why?"

"I just had to, okay?" John was shouting now. "He threatened to -kill- you!"


	7. Chapter 7

"I just had to, okay?" John was shouting now. "He threatened to -kill- you!" John turned around to face Sherlock, angry tears coating his beautifully blue eyes. "He was going to kill you..." John's voice broke down and he dropped his head.

Sherlock silently set his tea on the table, stood up and made his way over to John. Sherlock gently placed one hand on John's shoulder and one cupping John's face. John locked eyes with Sherlock.

"Who did, John?" Sherlock whispered.

"Moriarty, he..." John took a deep breath to calm himself, which seemed impossible while Sherlock was so close to his face, their eyes locked.

-Dilated pupils, sped up heart rate, sweaty palms...- Sherlock noted quickly. -Maybe he still is in love with... me...-

"Moriarty... h-he said if I... um... didn't give you up... h-he... would kill... you..." John stuttered, staring into those deep blue/gray eyes.

"So he wanted me for himself?" Sherlock thought out loud. "Thats so mhmmmm!"

John kissed Sherlock roughly out of nowhere, backing Sherlock into the wall.

-

"I still love you, Sherlock..." John said slowly after the two of them had settled down and sat down in their armchairs with a cup of coffee each. "If he didn't threaten your life, I would have never let you go..."

"So how did I end up willingly dating Moriarty?"

"Don't know..." John shrugged, sipping his coffee.

Sherlock stood up and started pacing. "I can't think any more, John! I want to be with you, not Moriarty!"

"But if you break up with him, he may kill you..." John watched Sherlock's pacing from his armchair.

Sherlock gave a slight chuckle. "That would be better than another night with him."

John smiled, still watching Sherlock pace. What was it about this man that was so... adorable? John's heart sank as he realized what he really lost. -No one can be that clever...- John thought to himself sadly. -But he is...-

"John?" John shook his head and snapped his attention to Sherlock, who had stopped pacing. "Could you go buy some milk? I need to think."

"How long do you need? I can run some other chores as well."

"Can you give me a few hours?"

"Of course." John slipped into his coat. "I'll be back in a few hours then."

Sherlock kissed John quickly, then smiled at him. "Bye."

"Bye..." John swallowed hard and shut the door behind him.

Hey honey, is John home.  
-JM

No.  
-SH

Good. I'm coming over!  
-JM


	8. Chapter 8

The door bell rang as Sherlock sat in his arm chair, hands stapled under his chain, waiting.

"Enter." He called, not moving.

He didn't bother looking up to see who it was, it wasn't called for. Soon enough, Moriarty was sitting on Sherlock's lap, kissing Sherlock deeply and cupping Sherlock's face in his hands.

"I had missed you, my love." Moriarty muttered between snogging Sherlock.

Moriarty stood, still kissing Sherlock, pulling him up with him and quickly undressed both of them. When their clothes lay forgotten, together, on the floor, Moriarty led Sherlock to Sherlock's bedroom, turning him and shoving him over the bed, forcing him to double over. Moriarty, back to the door, got so close behind Sherlock that it locked Sherlock to the bed, Moriarty's hand on his back to keep him down.

Moriarty quickly entered, causing Sherlock to scream out in pain.

-

"I'm home, Sherlock." John said as he entered the flat. No sign of Sherlock.

John sighed and shrugged, walking into the kitchen and putting away the things he had picked up. He was half way through when a scream echoed through the flat. Basically throwing the box of cereal on the floor, John ran to Sherlock's room, the source of the scream, and busted into the room.

"Sherlock, are you-"John stopped.

Moriarty turned his head to see John standing in the doorway, looking dumbfounded. John's heart was pounding in his chest as his eyes slid down to Sherlock, doubled over on the bed and clenching the sheets in his fists. Sherlock was able to turn his head just enough to look around Moriarty and at John. John's breath caught as he saw Sherlock's beautiful blue/gray eyes coated in tears of pain. Sherlock buried his face in the sheets as John ran out of the room, leaving the flat with a slam.

Sherlock cried into the covers, out of pain from Moriarty inside of him, and from what he knew he just did to John.

-His- John.


	9. Chapter 9

We need to talk.  
-SH

Your place?  
-JM

No. Yours. John's home.  
-SH

Oh, how is old Johnny-boy after that?  
-JM

Locked himself in his room.  
-SH

All day?  
-JM

All today. All yesterday.  
-SH

Let me in.  
-SH

Right away!  
-JM

-

The doors opened and Sherlock entered the mansion. He made his way up to Moriarty's room door and knocked.

"Enter." Came Moriarty's voice, so he did.

Moriarty stood in nothing but a red velvet bathroom, staring out of a window on the other side of his bed.

"Good afternoon, Sherlock." Moriarty purred clipping his hands behind his back.

"Afternoon." Sherlock returned, an icy tone hinting in his deep voice.

Moriarty turned to face him, an eyebrow raised. "You wanted to talk?" Moriarty asked, taking a seat on the bed.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock hissed.

"And what exactly am I doing?" Moriarty asked, motioning at the room with his arms dramatically.

"Why in bloody hell did you make John break up with me? Why did you threaten -my- life? Why did you want -us- to date?"

"Oh, my dear Sherlock... tisk tisk tisk." Moriarty clicked his tongue, shaking his head disapprovingly as he stood. "Don't you -see-?" Moriarty started closer to Sherlock clasping his hands behind his back again. "Us together, our brilliant minds working as one! Think about how unstoppable we could be! Besides, I can't look away from a hot brain." A smirk crossed his face.

"But I -love- John!" Sherlock shouted.

"Calm down. Babe, if I can't have you, no one can. You leave me, you die."

"So you'd rather me stay here and be miserable? Even if I do stay, I wouldn't do what you say!"

"Sherlock, darling, I could give you anything you wanted."

"I -want- John!" Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

"Except for that. Can't do that."

"He's all I want!"

"Am I not suitable? Sherlock, what do I lack?"

"My heart."

"Huh?"

"John is the only one who could hold my heart. You lack it. You don't have his looks, personality, eyes, and you can't reach me like he can. No one can reach me like he can..." Moriarty was quiet. "I'm leaving."

"Sherlock, don't you leave!" Moriarty growled. "You leave and I will kill you!"

Sherlock paused for a second, then left the mansion.

"I will burn you, Sherlock Holmes! Burn you!"


	10. Chapter 10

Sherlock slowly made his way up the seventeen steps to their flat. -I will burn you, Sherlock Holmes! Burn you!-

Sherlock sighed as he paused at the door, his hand on the door knob. He entered the flat, his mind working. He shrugged off his coat and hung it on the rack. Turning, his heart dropped.

John lay on his arm chair over the arm rests, his skin a ghostly pale, a little orange bottle lay open on the carpet next to the chair, empty.

"God damn..." Sherlock muttered, running to John's side.

John's eyes slowly opened to lock on Sherlock's.

"what have you done, John..?"

"I... couldn't handle it... anymore..." John's voice was just above a whisper.

Sherlock nestled down next to John, stroking his cheek, his eyes getting hot.

"John... I'm calling an ambulance... You need to get the poison out and ..."

"It's... too late..." John moaned in pain.

"Wh... What..?" Sherlock lowered his cell phone he had taken out.

"It's been thirty minutes... I'll be... Few more minutes..."

"Why did you -do- this?" Sherlock felt hot tears rolling down his cheeks.

"You with... Moriarty... Without Molly... I have nothing... Without you I have... nothing..."

"I broke up with him, John... for you!" Sherlock cuddled John in his arms, pulling his from his chair into his lap.

"But he'll... kill you..."

"We can out run him, John! Together! Please, don't leave me! I can't... go on without... please..." Sherlock sobbed into John, feeling John's heart rate start to slow dangerously.

"It's too... late, Sherlock. I'm dying..."

"No... John... You-you can't..." Sherlock had so many feelings swelling up inside him.

"Kiss me..." John moaned.

"John..."

"Please... I want to... die on your lips, Sherlock..."

Sherlock pressed his lips against John's, feeling his lips form into his. He held John's head up, his body laid across his lap with on arm wrapped around his middle. Sherlock intertwined his fingers with John's. He felt John's breath on his skin, shallow and slow. He felt John take a slow, deep breath and let it out, his grip on Sherlock's hand loosened and his lips deformed from Sherlock's. Hot tears ran down Sherlock's face and down onto John's. he gently pulled his lips off of John's and stared into his life-less eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes that used to have so much light sinning from them now ran ice cold, like his skin.

Sherlock squeezed John's life-less hands affectionately. "I will always love you, John. Always..."

He kissed John's life-less lips once more and just sat there, cuddling John's cold, limp body. He dialed a number on his cell phone, raising it to his ear.

"Lestrade..?"

"Sherlock, are you... Are you alright? You sound like your..."

"John is dead..."


	11. Chapter 11

"Sherlock..?"

Lestrade approached Sherlock carefully. Sherlock sat in the grass, staring at John's grave. The rain has been pouring down since the funeral and Sherlock has been sitting there ever since, his hair plastered to his face and his tux soaked. He was holding John's jumper under his chin, his legs pulled to his chest. It still smelled like John.

"Sherlock..." Lestrade placed a gentle hand on Sherlock's shoulder. He expected him to pull away like he always did, but he didn't, he actually leaned into it slightly. "He's in a better place now..."

"It's not fair..." Sherlock's voice was strangely calm through all his tears. "It's just not fair..."

"I know... He was a great man who deserves to be-"

"It should have been me... If anyone was to die, it should have been me."

"Sherlock... He choose to..."

"Because of me!"

"Sherlock, he's happier now... In a-"

"Don't say a better place..."

Lestrade shook Sherlock's shoulder comfortingly then turned to leave.

"John..?" Sherlock whispered after Lestrade had left, to the grave, feeling it silly, but necessary, to say something to him. "Why... I mean... Did I really drive you this far? I never meant to hurt you in any way. You have to understand, what you walked in on... With Moriarty... I didn't have a choice... I mean... I wanted you more and..." Sherlock sighed deeply. "John, if you can hear me... please... forgive me... You're the only one who I'll ever love..."

Sherlock cuddled the jumper tightly, breathing in John's smell. He sat there for a while in complete silence. He read over John's grave until the engraving was engraved into his eyes. He stared at John's name until it burned into his heart.

"Your death won't be for nothing, John..." Sherlock muttered, standing. "Moriarty will pay..."

Sherlock took his coat and scarf he had brought with him and wrapped them around John's grave. He stood a moment, kissed his hand and placed it on the grave. Then, shrugging on John's jumper to he was surrounded in his smell, he left the grave yard.


	12. Chapter 12

Sherlock hiked up the stairs that lead to thei... his flat in 221B. Without John, this place was nothing short of Hell. Sherlock walked across thei... his flat and opened the cabinet in the kitchen, the whole time avoiding looking at John's old arm chair. The place he had died. Where Sherlock held him his last moments of life. Where Sherlock had kissed the last breath out of him...

Removing a pistol from the cabinet, he strode from the flat, avoiding that chair, and locked the door behind him after leaving a note on the kitchen table.

-I will not be back.-  
-Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock walked the dark streets of London. He knew he could never return to 221B Baker Street, there were too many sad memories that would haunt him of a time, happy with John. A time that can never return, no matter how much he willed it back. Wanted it back. It was all a sad dream now.

Sherlock fingered the pistol in his pocket of John's jumper. He could never take the jumper off, from the simple fact of it. Was. John's. It was all he could handle, to pace the streets of London, planning his next few days, breathing in John's smell, thinking of murder.

He was going to murder Moriarty, for all the Hell and shit he put him through. He indirectly caused John's death. Indirectly killed Sherlock with him. Indirectly burned Sherlock so badly, he could never forgive him. Moriarty said he would burn him, he was going to kill Sherlock, Sherlock knew that...

But Moriarty was coming down with him.

Bart's roof top, one hour.  
-SH

Pleasure is all mine, dearest.  
-JM

Sherlock paced the block. One hour. One hour till he killed the man that hurt -his- John. He didn't care if Moriarty killed him, as long as his blood got a taste of Moriarty's in the downfall, all would have gone to plan.

An hour later, Sherlock got a text from Moriarty.

Waiting.  
-JM

Sherlock pocketed the device and headed up the long, narrow staircase to the rooftop of Bart's. There, sitting on the edge, texting away, sat Moriarty.

"Sherlock..." Moriarty greeted before the staircase door had time to shut close. He didn't even glance up from his phone as Sherlock half approached him, then stopped. He formed a fist around the gun, readying it for fire.

"Moriarty." Sherlock basically growled.

"How's old Johnny-boy?" Moriarty took a second to smirk up at Sherlock from his phone.

"You bastard... You drove him to his death... You know it..." Sherlock was doing all he could to keep his composer, but felt his walls breaking. Crumbling. His anger growing restless.

"Now now, Sherlock... Dear... My henchmen drove him to his death, killing Molly and all... but you... -you-, gave him that final little shove off the edge. Let him fall to his doom-"

"You were the one fucking me! I didn't have much say in the whole matter!" Sherlock raised his voice, cutting Moriarty off.

"Sherlock... in case you have forgotten, you didn't exactly -struggle- to get away. You never said 'no' or 'stop' to keep me from having you at my mercy. You did nothing to stop me, so it is your fault that John. Is. Dead."

Sherlock couldn't respond. He bit down, hard, on the inside of his cheek. His anger grew inside of him. He wanted nothing more then to pull out that gun from John's jumper pocket and shoot this bastard. The cause of all his pain. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to do it...

"Sherlock... everything you did for John... all of it was a precious waste of time! He never cared about you! He didn't put up a -fight- to keep you as his. I mentioned you, and him breaking up with him, and he didn't argue. He -agreed-! He didn't give a -damn- about what happened to you, whether you happy or not. He didn't care!"

"Lies... Lies! He did care! He didn't argue because... because he wanted me to live! He knew I would be miserable, and he knew he would be too... but he did it to save my -life-! He did care!"

"Sherlock... He killed himself..."

"Because he didn't have me-"

"Because he couldn't stand to see us together while he lost the person he -loved-. Once Molly was dead, so was he, and he knew it! He didn't care about you, he wanted her! Never you! Me offering to take you off his hands, the threat to take your life if he didn't end it, he used it as an -excuse-, and excuse to go to her. The day he broke with you, the day I asked you out, he asked her! He wasn't heart broken, he was relieved! He always wanted her, he just didn't want to hurt your precious little heart. When the opportunity showed it's self, he jumped on it to claim her as his own! He never cared about you, Sherlock! He just didn't know how to tell you." Moriarty was smiling, a twisted evil smile. "He never loved you, Sherlock."

"You... you must be lying... John would.. would never..."

"But he did. He could, would, and -did-." Moriarty walked around Sherlock, curling a long arm around his shoulders. "He lied to you, Sherlock."

Sherlock was silent. He wanted it all to end! All the lies! All the memories that had flooded back to him! He wanted Moriarty to disappear, along with his pain.

"You can end it all right here, Sherlock." Moriarty said softly into his ear, guiding Sherlock to the edge of the building. "You're answers to all your problems are right here, and all you have to do is chase. Them. Down..."

Sherlock, uneasily, stepped onto the wall and looked down to the pavement. All his pain would be gone if he just...

Fell...


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock, uneasily, stepped onto the wall and looked down to the pavement. All his pain would be gone if he just...

Fell...

"Go ahead, end everything here. All your pain, and feelings, and heartbrokenness. All of it. Just. Jump."

"Moriarty... I made a promise to an old friend the other day..." Sherlock said turning around to face Moriarty dead in the eye.

"Oh?" Moriarty said softly.

"Oh. Want to know what that promise was? I promised that someone was going to pay. Pay for John's death. For my feelings. Pay for everything. And I promise, in particular, that that person would be you. If I jump, you're coming with me!"

"That doesn't seem at all possible, seeing I have no will to jump off a building and -kill- myself." Moriarty laughed.

"And nor do I..." Sherlock said slowly. "...without your blood."

"Now, Sherlock..." Moriarty smiled that evil grin of his. "...Just end it. You can be with your sweetie, John, if you just jump. All your problems and heartache would be over! You two can be happy, together. Isn't that what you want?"

Sherlock looked over his shoulder at the drop. He did want to see John again, thats all he wanted. Yet, at the same time, he didn't want to have to jump and kill himself! He couldn't go back to 221B, he couldn't solve crimes, not here, anymore; every part of his being told him to just jump. There was no point of life without John. He could never truly be happy again with John gone. It was the only way...

"Jump, Sherlock." Moriarty urged. "Just jump, it's painless... you know, till you hit the bottom..."

Sherlock turned to face the drop. He had to. His heart was broken, he couldn't very well go on without his blogger. Without his life...

Sherlock fingered the gun again, fixing it in his hand for a shot. In one breath, he turned it on Moriarty, aiming for his skull.

"If I go, you come down with me." Sherlock hissed through clenched teeth.

"Sherlock..." Moriarty held up his hands to signal defeat.

"I told you someone was going to pay. Pay for John's death, pay for all this pain..." Sherlock clicked the gun. "And I told you it would be you..."

"Please..."

"Goodbye, Jim Moriarty. Forever rot in your own pool of blood." He started to pull the trigger. "I will see. You. In. Hell."

The defining sound of a gun shot shattered the still afternoon air as Moriarty's body hit the ground. Sherlock tossed the gun aside and turned to face the fall.

"I will see you in Hell..."

Sherlock took a step off the wall.

"For you John..."

With that, he fell.

The air stung his face. Screams were heard below, but he didn't give a damn. John's face flashed before his eyes. His life, John, flashed before his eyes.

He let a smile cross his face, knowing he would be with John soon.

Then, it was over.


	14. Chapter 14

"Sherlock? Sherlock?"

What was going on? Sherlock shook his head, keeping his eyes shut, trying to mentally drown out the voice of his dead friend.

"Sherlock, please! Open your eyes... Please... I... I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to..."

John's voice trailed off. Sherlock slowly fluttered his eyes open to see John Knelling above him. He noted John's hand was tangled in his curls and a dull pain was ringing in the back of his skull.

"John..?" Sherlock moaned lightly, the pain getting heavier. "What happened?"

Sherlock felt something cold drip down his forehead and felt the weight of a towel draped over him. John adjusted the towel before speaking.

"How do you feel, Sherlock? Dizzy at all? Nauseous?"

"Dizzy slightly... Otherwise fine... Now what happened, John?"

"How much do you remember?"

"Nothing..."

"God, that's not good..." John looked around for something to hold the pressure on Sherlock's head, doctor mode kicking in. "I need to go get you ice. Keep the pressure on... I'll be right back want anything else like tea or something to eat I can get you something for the pain how bad is the pain?" John ran his sentences together, starting to stand up.

"John..."

"I'll make you some tea!" John untangled himself from the blankets, revealing his completely naked body. John left the room, not pausing to grab his robe, even, leaving Sherlock to lay in the dark and try to remember what had happened last.

Sherlock heard John rustling in the kitchen and the kettle start to boil. John came back into the room and placed an ice pack on Sherlock's forehead. As he turned to leave, Sherlock grabbed his wrist.

"What. Happened. John?" Sherlock hissed.

John sat on the edge of the bed and covered his lower half with the sheet.

"We were... You know..." John swallowed. "Having sex..."

"Don't act like that was hard to say..."

John just snorted as Sherlock smiled, the pain pounding away again.

"Anyway, I entered you, and you thrusted back, slamming your head on the back of the bed. Before I knew it, Sherlock, you were out cold. Are you sure you're alright?" John cupped Sherlock's face in his hand.

"I'm fine... But wait... You're supposed to be dead!" Sherlock sat straight up and instantly regretted it, moaning loudly and shutting his eyes.

"Dead? Where did you get that from?"

"I saw you! You committed suicide! You overdosed on pills! You died on my lips!"

"Sherlock... What happened exactly?"

"You hated me! I kissed you and you pushed me away, then Mycroft and Lestrade were getting married... Moriarty and I were dating and you were dating Molly! Molly was killed by Moriarty's people and then you walked in on Moriarty and I having sex... Then you killed yourself with overdose, I killed Moriarty then I killed myself because I didn't have you! Then, ughhh..." Sherlock let out a long, painful groan, holding his temples.

"You had sex with Moriarty? Ew..."

"I know... Don't remind me..." Sherlock groaned. "Only because Moriarty threatened to kill me if you didn't break up with me and let him have me..."

"So you were... cheating on me?" John smiled and got close to Sherlock. "In your dreams?"

Sherlock had his eyes closed and didn't note John's approach.

"I didn't mean to, John... It was obviously just a horrible dream..."

"Sherlock..." John tilted Sherlock's chin up and kissed him softly. "It was a joke..."

"Oh..." Sherlock breathed, looking in John's deep blue eyes. "Don't leave me, John..." Sherlock muttered in John's ear, holding him closer.

"I have to go get the tea, Sherlock..."

"Not until you promise me, John, that you will never leave me..."

"Sherlock... Never..." John kissed Sherlock again. "Come on..." He whispered. "Lets take care of that bump and headache."

Sherlock nodded softly, trying not to awaken the pain that seemed to have settled.

"Hand me my robe?" Sherlock moaned.

"You won't need it." John whispered, sliding his hand under the covers.

"Oh doctor..." Sherlock whispered in response as John stroked a gentle finger down Sherlock, his pain forgotten.

Damn his dream, killing this wonderful man!


End file.
